


Meanwhile Back in Goodneighbor...

by Boarixonyxexawnis



Series: Wraith in the Ruins [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3, Fallout 4
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Fluff and Angst, Multi, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:20:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25228969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boarixonyxexawnis/pseuds/Boarixonyxexawnis
Summary: Pre Canon/Before Wraith wakes up. Pre-game adventures with Hancock, MacCready and Deacon.
Series: Wraith in the Ruins [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826956
Kudos: 1





	1. Picking Flowers

**Picking Flowers**

Takes place well before Wraith wakes up/pre game.

This is also meant to be light, (like **Black Balloons** ) but I’ll still put **Trigger warnings** : canon language/violence/gun use. Mature/suggestive content

**Games spoilers!**

Please enjoy!

The Third Rail was temporarily closed for maintenance. Hancock was rewiring for the stage he just built and in the off chance something went sideways, he wanted the fewest casualties possible.

“Okay, Charlie, try it now.” His muffled voice came from the crawlspace directly behind the stage.

The bar had been open for a while but the esteemed mayor had decided the jute box wasn’t the end-all-be-all for his vision, “A quality establishment ought to have live music.”

“Jolly good, Boss; don’t blame me if you’re electrocuted.” Whitechapel Charlie threw the breaker and was genuinely surprised when the speakers and microphone hummed to life and nothing burst into flames.

“See, what did I tell ya? The real trick will be getting out of here… Hup!” Despite what he said, Hancock easily jumped and caught the narrow lip of a vent access and then, with no real effort, pulled his lanky frame through. Landing lightly, he went to the microphone and gave it a test tap, “Any requests?”

“How about, ‘You Are Covered in Spider Webs’ or ‘There is a Lot of Dirt on Your Face’?” Fahrenheit and Ham had been sparing in the back room and she found harassing Hancock important enough to take a break, “or better yet, ‘Go Take a Bath Cause You Smell?”

“You’re not exactly smelling like roses yourself, Sweaty Betty!”

The two hadn’t been on the best of terms. After a huge fight after she turned 14, things had been tepid between them for a couple of years. Just recently he had suggested she take formal lessons in hand-to-hand from Ham and she had a multitude of teenage reasons why she shouldn’t bother. Hancock had tried to reason with her by explaining that Ham was a champion boxer before the war and was an accomplished instructor, “Taught me almost everything I know,” She had still refused, basing her whole argument on the fact that she had a gun and knew how to use it, even going so far as to pull it on him. Hancock had easily disarmed her and tossed her know-it-all-teenage-ass onto a couch. Point made.

Discussing it with Daisy later he had admitted he felt guilty for putting his hands on her, to which Daisy had scoffed, “I would have stuffed her **IN** the couch… pulled a gun on **ME**!”

His face suddenly serious, Hancock cradled the microphone like a lover and bringing it to his lips, he began to sing, “ _I was walking along, minding my business, when out of an orange colored sky, FLASH, BAM, ALAKAZAM, wonderful you came by…”_ With dramatic poses and microphone stand dips, he performed the whole song, (much to the secret delight of Fahrenheit). He bowed gracefully to their applause; ever the showman.

“Uh, bravo there, boss but I gotta say, running Goodneighbor from a stage ain’t gonna be cake.”

Hancock made a dismissive gesture, “No, Hammy. I don’t want to have my mug up here every night anyway. The Rail is supposed to be a refuge; a haven within a haven. It would be hard for the people to relax when the mayor himself is singing to ‘em. No, I need a real talent for this stage… someone prettier than me, to liven up the day, and night.”

“Well don’t look at me! There’s no way I’m dancing around like an idiot for tips.”

Hancock did his best to ignore her snarky comment and grabbing his hat and coat, he made for the stairs. “I’m sure I’ll think of something. If anyone needs me I’ll be at the Den.”

Jogging across the street he grumbled to himself about his ward, “Can’t wait till she’s over this childish bullshit!” If he was being honest with himself he missed her, as theirs was one of the only true friendships he had. He couldn’t wait until they were friends again.

Working, warm water showers were at a premium in the Commonwealth and Irma, the proprietor of The Memory Den was one of the few who could boast that claim. As Hancock entered the main room, he could see she was engaged with a customer, but after a wordless exchange she nodded him permission and he went upstairs. He was a little disappointed as he had hoped she might join him; showers are always more fun with two or more people.

Humming _Orange Colored Sky_ to himself and enjoying the warm embrace of the water, he almost missed the faint sound of a woman singing.

“ _Don’t stop thinking of me, don’t make me feel this way, come on over here and love me, you know what I want you to say…”_

Turning the water off, Hancock walked, dripping across Irma’s floor, in search of the source of the voice, “The fucks’ that coming from?”

Wandering over to the radiator he could hear Dr. Amari’s voice as she gently chastised the singer. Realizing what might be happening; he was halfway down the stairs before he remembered his nudity. Dashing back to Irma’s closet he grabbed the first thing found, which happened to be a very short woman’s bathrobe. Irma stifled a giggle as she saw him flash past the doorway on his way to the basement.

At the bottom of the stairs the Railroad agent standing guard made way for him, but not before raising a ginger eyebrow well clear above his sunglasses.

“Wait! Wait a second!” He practically flew into the room, skidding to a stop, much to the astonishment of Dr. Amari and the owner of the voice; a beautiful dark haired woman.

“Mayor Hancock! What in the world? Why are you dressed… why are you all wet?”

“Never mind that! Don’t do it. Hear me out first.” He realized how crazy he must have looked but he pushed past it in typical Hancock fashion, “Come work for me. I just finished a new stage at my bar, The Third Rail, and I want to hire you to come and sing.” In his excitement he took a step toward the singer and she backed away as if from a fire, “I’ll pay you room and board, plus a little something extra for you to put away. No contract, you can quit anytime you like!”

“Mayor Hancock! I must protest! This is a sensitive and difficult time. Do you know the dangers these two faced just to bring her here?”

“What, she can’t answer for herself? What’s yer name, sister?”

“C2-41.”

“C2… oh… right.”

Clearly torn the synth was wringing her hands nervously, “I don’t know… this is all happening rather fast. I was just trying to make myself feel better. Singing calms me down.”

The Railroad agent walked around Hancock to stand next to Amari, clearly showing a preference of choice, “The Institute could come looking for her here, Hancock. Could you protect her? Do you want that level of scrutiny? Cause we sure as fuck don’t!”

“You changed her face, right? No one knows she’s here, right? All she has to do is choose a new name and no one will be the wiser. Isn’t it her choice? Besides, I have one of the toughest S.O.B.s in the Commonwealth as a bouncer, the Neighborhood Watch, KL-E-O and there’s me!” Despite his wet hair and lack of clothing, Hancock still managed to look impressive as he lifted his chin and puffed his chest.

C2-41 looked him over with an appraiser’s eye, “You can tell a lot about a man from his knees; you aren’t used to begging for what you want, Mr. Mayor. You seem capable if not… unique. If I had to guess, I’d say you were the most dangerous human I’ve met. Present company excluded of course.” She nodded at the agent.

“Yes he is dangerous,” Sighing heavily the agent continued, “and meddlesome. I don’t like saying this but he’s also right; it is your choice, C2.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this! Deacon!” Amari was shaking her head, “She was created to sing. To entertain. Now she’s gone missing and then Goodneighbor suddenly has a vocalist preforming on stage? You don’t honestly believe this will go unnoticed, do you?”

“You would have to lay low for a while. If you can be patient, and wait for an all clear from me, this might work.” Deacon honestly wanted her to be safe **and** happy. One of her biggest hang-ups had been that her new self wouldn’t remember that she could sing, and that Amari would also alter her vocal cords so she **couldn’t** sing, at least not well.

“Very well, Mayor Hancock, I’ll take you up on your offer.”

“Wonderful!” Hancock practically glowed in his victory, “Now then, what would you like to be called?”

“I don’t… I honestly have no idea.”

“Magnolia.” They all turned to Amari in surprise, “That was my Grandmother’s name. I was going to put that in for you anyway.”

“It was a flower, right? Or a tree that grew beautiful flowers, right?” Hancock gave C2-41 his best charming smile, “Well that’s perfect then; a beautiful flower for a beautiful woman. What do ya think, sister?” 

Magnolia gave Hancock a charming smile of her own, “It’s just wonderful, sugar. I love it.”

“Well now that’s all settled, if you’ll follow me, Magnolia, I’ll set you up with a room.” Glancing down at himself, Hancock weighed the choice of putting his dirty cloths back on or walking back to his office as is. “I suppose we’ll have to stop at the Statehouse, so I can change into something… to my measurements.”

Magnolia gave him another slow look of appraisal, “No need to change on my account, Mr. Mayor.”


	2. Black Balloons

**Black Balloons**

**Trigger Warnings:** canon language/gun use

**Game Spoilers!**

Please enjoy!

“I’m sure he’s just sweet on ya, Fahr.” Hancock and Fahrenheit were returning to the Mayor’s office while discussing a young Neighborhood Watch member named Michael. Hancock was positive the youth was ass-over-teakettle in love with Fahrenheit, but she was having none of it.

“He is a bother.” She had repeated this sentiment at least six times already and as protective as he was, Hancock honestly felt bad for the kid.

As they approached the office doors Fahrenheit addressed the Watch member on guard, “Anything?”

“No, ma’am. No visitors and no messages.”

“Well shit, guess I’m not as popular as I thought, Harold.” Hancock made a point to remember everyone’s name, and the unmistakable smile of pride on ‘Harold’s’ face was only one of the reasons: you could never be too careful.

As he opened the door Hancock was hit on the nose by something. Something black. Something floating. “Whattheshits?!” Swatting at his own bewildered face, he watched as the balloon flew back into his office and then came almost immediately back to boop his nose.

Someone had tied a black balloon to the inner doorknob.

Fahrenheit had her sidearm out in a flash. Pushing Hancock aside, she stalked into the room and froze. 

The entire room was filled with black balloons. 

“The fuck is this?!” Whipping around she got in Harold’s face, “You said no one! There was obviously someone! Why are you laughing?!”

Hancock was laughing. An honest-to-goodness, hands-on-the-knees, doubled over type laugh. “It’s okay, Fahr!” Gasping, he wiped tears from his eyes, “Put up yer gun. Who knows which gas that asshole used. Goddamn! Whew!” Hancock cupped Fahrenheit’s elbow and lead her into his office. Smiling a reassuring smile at Harold, who was still standing dumbfounded, he shut the door behind them.

Fahrenheit was as twitchy as a colt. The air currents from the door caused a chain reaction of movement to the tethered balloons. As they bumped and ricocheted about, (as is perfectly natural for them to do) she flinched at every “boink” noise. “Please explain what the hell these things are! Why are they moving like that? Why am I not shooting them down?”

“They’re balloons, Fahr. They are filled with a gas that’s lighter than air, so they can float. Supposed to be festive. You don’t know what balloons are?” He seemed disappointed. 

“I’ve seen pictures in... in a book... I know what balloons are! I didn’t know about the moving! What the hell is going on?!”

“Don’t shoot ‘em cause he might have used hydrogen and you’d blow us all to hell. Maybe. Although, I doubt he would want that, so we’re probably fine.” Hancock had tucked one of the balloons under his arm and was picking at the knot, “If you count ‘em up, I’ll bet you any amount of caps there’s forty of ‘em. As to why they’re black... well, he’s an asshole that’s why!”

“John, why are there forty black balloons in your office and who is ‘he’?” Putting her gun away, she crossed her arms and fixed Hancock with a look that would have withered a deathclaw. 

“I can think of only one fucker who’d be able to get forty inflated balloons in here and not be seen by anyone,” Glancing at the ceiling Hancock muttered, “Probably through the roof access.” Finally getting the knot, he gave her a triumphant look before holding the balloon up to his mouth and taking a deep breath in, “ _That sunglass-wearing SOB from the Railroad!”_

His ridiculous falsetto made Fahrenheit’s eyes bulge and she stood with her mouth open, gaping like a fish, “How are you doing that?”

“It’s the helium. Although, hydrogen would do the same thing, just before you’d asphyxiate. Hmm, come to think of it, breathing in straight helium for too long might also be bad news. Come on Fahr, you try!”

Shaking her head and rolling her eyes she asked, “For the last time, **why**?”

“Cause its John McDonough’s fortieth birthday today. This is just his way of letting me know that he knows who I am. Heh, like it’s a big fucking secret,” Taking another deep breath of balloon he squeaked, “ _It’s a power trip...HAHAHAHA!”_

“It’s your birthday?” Fahrenheit was embarrassed. She had never thought to ask him when his birthday was. Such things were rather low on her priority list. She would never have guessed that he was that much older than her either, as his great mane of blond hair and electric blue eyes gave him a youthful appearance. And, seeing as how he was giggling like a child over his “balloon voice” he certainly didn’t seem to have the maturity at the moment.

Letting go of the balloon, Hancock laughed like a ten-year-old as it “fart noised” itself flat. Picking the knot apart of a new balloon he offered it to her.

“No Hancock, I’m not doing that.”

Fixing her with a sad doe-eyed smile he pouted, “Well, I just thought... seeing as how it’s my birthday and all... and you didn’t even remember... come on, Fahr, play balloons with me. Just this once.”

“You are ridiculous, you know that, right? The ‘most feared man in the Commonwealth’… If they could only see you now.” She accepted the balloon and was careful to keep the opening closed. “I swear to God, John Hancock, if anyone **EVER** finds out that I did this, I will gut you with your own knife!” Holding the balloon to her lips she took a breath, “I don’t even know what to say!” She said in her perfectly normal voice. She looked disappointed, “Why didn’t it work for me?”

“You did it wrong, sweetheart. You took a breath of air again before you spoke. Here, like this,” Demonstrating like a professional, on a new balloon, he took a breath and sang, “ _I don’t want to set the world on fiiiireee!”_ He gestured for her to continue.

“You’re an insufferable know-it-all, you know? Happy birthday John.” Then making sure she got one last I-will-gut-you look in, she took a breath of helium, “ _I just want to start a flame in your heart.”_

_“_ HAHAHAHA! That’s great Fahr! Wheeeee! Well, we only have thirty-seven more balloons to go. Whew, I gotta sit down!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	3. The Straw

**The Straw**

A look back-in-time, before Wraith woke up.

**Trigger warnings:** canon language/drug & alcohol use. Attempted suicide

**Game Spoilers!**

Please enjoy!

“Checkmate!” Fahrenheit’s triumphant yell startled Harold, the Neighborhood Watch sanding guard at the door. He had been drifting off and her jubilation had made him spaz comically. Hancock pretended not to notice as he reached forward with dramatic slowness and resigned his king.

“You got me. Good match, Fahr… hey… where…?”

As soon as the crown touched the board Fahrenheit had walked briskly around to Hancock’s private bar. Helping herself to a tumbler and what she knew for a fact was his best whiskey, she proceed to pour herself a very generous portion.

“Careful with that! That’s way more…”

Downing it like a shot, she was immediately overcome by a gasping, coughing fit, “Whasser! Hag erk!”

Laughing at her, Hancock provided an unnecessarily exuberant pat on the back before passing her a container of water, “Heh. Tried to warn ya. That there is a ‘sipping whiskey’. A deal is a deal I suppose, but I feel you’re a little young to be drinkn’ the hard shit.”

“I’m eighteen, Hancock.”

“Are you really? Christ am I getting old!” He felt a small pain in his heart; she was all grown up. “So when you movin’ out?”

Rolling her eyes, she smiled at him before pouring a more sensible portion, “Oh no! No way. You would get into way too much shit without me here.”

They heard footsteps coming up the stairs before Harold stuck his head in the door, “There’s a courier for you, Mayor Hancock.”

“Ah, that would be a letter from Morningstar.” Hancock had recently been in correspondence with a huge player in the Capital Wasteland: Nyx Morningstar owned a majority share in the trade caravans that moved in and around the ruins to the south and Hancock wanted Goodneighbor to be part of her expansion north. Apparently, in addition to moving a vast array of goods, she also moved “packages” for the Railroad. Deacon had been pivotal in establishing the link, which was something that severely nettled Hancock.

Taking the proffered envelope, he tipped the courier before tearing it open, “Oh… It’s from Nick…” Color drained from Hancock’s face almost as soon as he began reading. Stumbling backward toward his desk, he missed his chair completely and fell heavily to the floor.

“Hancock!” Rushing to his side, Fahrenheit took the letter from his outstretched hand and began reading:

_John,_

_It is with deep regret that I must inform you on the death of your parents._

_I took the liberty of looking into their passing and could find no evidence of foul play. As you may know Patrick had fallen ill recently, and as will sometimes happen, Martha followed him shortly to her rest._

_Mayor McDonough had their remains cremated as is the custom._

_If you need anything from me, or would like me to follow up, please don’t hesitate to ask._

_Your friend,_

_Nick Valentine_

Fahrenheit placed a hand on his shoulder, “John…”

Flinching at the contact Hancock’s voice was husky, “I need… I need you to go…”

Trying her best to be understanding, she left him in his office, shutting the door behind her. She told Harold to direct all future concerns to her and that the mayor was “ **Not to be disturbed!”**

She expected him to go on a bender. She expected him to have a bedroom full of men and women at all hours of the night and day. Fahrenheit expected Bedlam. What she got was… nothing. Within 24 hours Hancock was apparently back to his normal self and it terrified her. When she finally worked up the nerve to ask him about it he had smiled and said, “These things happen.”

The letter from Morningstar came 3 days after Valentine’s. In it Nyx informed Hancock that she herself would be making the journey to Goodneighbor to finalize the trade agreement. Jumping into the preparations with almost hyper-like enthusiasm, Fahrenheit had a suspicion that Hancock was keeping himself together just to make sure the deal went through.

As soon as Nyx stepped through the gate Fahrenheit could tell that this was a woman in power: confidence and strength emanated from her like rays of light from the sun. She was tall, built like a brick house and with blue-black hair and golden eyes she was strikingly beautiful. As if she wasn’t impressive enough on her own, she was accompanied by her personal bodyguard Charon, an absolute mountain of a ghoul.

If Hancock was intimidated he didn’t show it in the least. Emanating his own aura of confidence and charisma he greeted his guests with arms open wide, “Welcome to Goodneighbor my friends. May you find whatever it was you are looking for, even if you didn’t know you were looking. I trust your trip in was pleasantly uneventful?”

Shaking his offered hand, Nyx unleashed a devastating smile and the two fell into an easy banter as if they had been close friends for years. Hancock introduced Fahrenheit as his second and Nyx turned her smile on her like it was a weapon. The strong handshake and eye contact left Fahrenheit fighting flushed cheeks.

Fahrenheit decided she really didn’t care for Nyx Morningstar.

Over the next few days Hancock kept Fahrenheit with him as he danced the political dance; making sure she had a chance to observe a master at work. He welcomed any questions she had, even during actual haggling sessions. She felt pride in the level of trust he was showing her.

She was taken down a peg however when she realized the trade agreement wasn’t the only deal Nyx had going down in the Commonwealth. There were several meetings with key Railroad members, some of which Hancock was party to that Fahrenheit was not.

Fahrenheit decided she **really** didn’t care for Nyx Morningstar.

She found the first broken mirror 2 days after the Morningstar caravan left. When she asked Hancock about how his bathroom mirror had been cracked he laughed it off, “Heh. These things happen.”

He was sleeping alone. Hancock almost always had a bedfellow.

The glass was broken on the portrait of the original John Hancock that the mayor kept in his office. The day after she had asked about it the picture vanished along with all the glass from the display cases throughout the State House.

He was destroying his reflection whenever and wherever he saw it and had taken to wearing gloves to hide his bloody and bandaged knuckles.

Fahrenheit wanted so badly to help him, but she couldn’t get him to talk to her. All the lessons he taught her on history and music as well as combat and arms in no way supplied her with the tools to help someone who was clearly on an emotional downward spiral. She even went to Daisy; one of the people that she knew for a fact actually cared about the mayor as a person.

“He won’t talk to me either, honey. Lord knows he’s hurting… maybe just give him some more time.”

Hancock made sure his internal struggle was invisible to the rest of the people of Goodneighbor by going about his mayoral duties as if nothing was wrong. The Morningstar caravan from Underworld to Goodneighbor was a huge success and goods and Railroad packages moved smoothly between the two cities. In fact, to an outside observer, Goodneighbor had achieved a renaissance and Hancock was its da Vinci.

As if she wasn’t worried enough as it was, Fahrenheit’s anxiety got a major boost the day Hancock officially made her Captain of the Neighborhood Watch. He even had a small ceremony, (much to her embarrassment) followed by a large party at the Third Rail (where she was even more embarrassed).

A week later she couldn’t find him.

Keeping it quiet wasn’t easy. She didn’t ask around, she just patrolled in more specific areas of town where one might find a wayward mayor. Finally giving up she went back to his office. She found the note pinned to his coat on the seat of his desk chair.

She couldn’t even open it. Fahrenheit stared at the envelope as if it were a monster. If she turned away it may devour her, but if she continued to look at it there was no denying its existence.

“Where would he go…? He wouldn’t do it here.” She knew the note wouldn’t tell her. Hancock didn’t want to be stopped. This wasn’t a cry for help; he was looking for an end. “The ocean museum!” It hit her like a thunder-bolt. Grabbing his coat she sprinted out of the State House and ignoring the calls from her subordinates, she flew out of the gate and into the ruins. 

It was dark by the time she entered the dry-dock warehouse just south of the Nahant Oceanological Society building. Hancock loved being close to the ocean and would often “threaten” Fahrenheit with potential fishing trips. She knew he would be there. Somewhere…

“…people who own little businesses of their own, the safer… the people who have a stake in their country and in their community are its best citizens…” She could hear Hancock’s voice, but it sounded odd; coarser than normal. Fahrenheit recognized he was repeating some of his favorite John Hancock quotes. “We must be unanimous; there must be no pulling different ways; we must hang together!”

When she finally saw him her heart froze and she dropped to her knees: he was standing naked in the center of a room wreathed in an iridescent green flame. Even as she watched he seemed to diminish, almost melt, before her eyes. His once shining mane of blond curls had all but fallen to the ground and his proud Roman nose was hanging by a shriveled piece of skin. He had stopped speaking for a moment and was watching the flames run up and down his arms as if entranced.

“John… no…”

He was beyond hearing her; lost in the high of whatever chem he had taken to cause his transformation. And transforming he was; Fahrenheit had grown up around ghouls and knew, without a doubt in her mind, what his end shape would be.

“John… why?”

“Resistance to tyranny…Harrrk” Choking on his own blood, he crouched into fetal position as he coughed, “AAAGGHHHOO HAGGkkkk. Oh! IT HURTS! **IT HURTS!** ” Fahrenheit flinched and stood up when he suddenly jumped back to a standing position. Throwing his hands out wide, he continued his rambling quotations, “There! I guess King George can now read my name without his spectacles, and he can double the reward on my head!” 

“Please, John… Can you even hear me? Don’t you see me here? JOHN!”

Turning to her he took a few steps toward her extending his right hand as if pleading for help. But as he was still burning, she shied and backed away from his touch. Dropping his arm he stared at her with his now coal-black eyes, “I see you, Fahr. Look! Now I’m as ugly on the outside as I’ve been on the inside all along. Along. Along… Inside is the outside as is the inside-out!” He turned away and continued his speech to an assembly only he could see, “I am a friend to righteous government, to a government founded upon the principles of reason and justice; but I glory in publicly avowing my eternal enmity to tyranny.”

“Please stop! Please don’t… you can’t do this to me. **YOU FUCKING CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!** ” She was crying now, openly sobbing, “You selfish fucking coward! Why did you do this? You can’t kill yourself!”

“I killed them all, Fahr. They are all dead because of me.” The flames were beginning to dwindle as he walked back to stand in front of her. He was now fully a ghoul and completely unrecognizable, “And you’re right, Fahr; apparently I can’t even kill myself. That government is best which governs the least, because its people discipline themselves.”

“That’s wrong. That wasn’t John Hancock; that one was Jefferson.” She brought his coat up and buried her face in it, “Why would you try? Don’t you know what your death would have done to Goodneighbor?”

“You are all better off without me. Why the fuck did you come here? Why’d you bring that thing?” He pointed at the frock coat with obvious irritation, “I never earned the right to wear it anyway.” His eyes narrowed and he ran at her growling terribly, “HAAARRRRGGGGGGGAHHH!”

Rather than draw her side arm, she faced him down. Standing her ground, she called his bluff. His scarred face inches from hers, he continued to roar at her until he suddenly became fascinated by a boat in the corner. Running over to it, he climbed in and standing on the seat like it was a stage, started to hum Orange Colored Sky. Fahrenheit’s favorite song.

“I remember when you showed up with this,” She was looking down at the frock coat and had tenderness in her voice, “you looked so silly because it didn’t fit you, even as skinny as you are, but you still had your arms in it… all backwards… I was mad because you had cut yourself. I can still see you and Daisy sitting back-to-back, I sewed your hands back together while she let the coat out. You were making faces… trying to get me to laugh… oh, John…” Crying bitterly she dropped to a crouch with the coat held to her face. 

“I’m sorry, Fahr. I… I fucked up again. I thought that I could atone this way… I hurt you instead. I don’t ever want to hurt you. I knew there was a chance that I could survive, but end up as a ghoul. I thought I didn’t care which way it went.” He had come to sit next to her, legs crossed and hands in his lap he had made an effort to cover his nudity, “but maybe this will have to count for something.”

“Does it hurt? I have Med-X with me.”

“It hurts like a mother fucker! But… I deserve every second of this pain. I’m a Goddamn fool. I can’t ask ya to forgive me for this. I wouldn’t deserve it.”

“I… I’m really mad at you right now and I’ll be mad at you for the foreseeable future, but you know I love you so… Now what?”

“Now… I’m not sure.” Running a hand across his head, he realized perhaps for the first time, that his hair was gone.

“If you need some time to… heal? I can look after Goodneighbor for a bit, but I think the town needs you, John.”

“Ya don’t think the people will have a few questions as to why their mayor is missing his nose?”

“I’m not sure most of them would be lucid enough to notice. The ones that do… they’ll know it’s you.”

“Who’s ‘you’? Who am I supposed to be now, Fahr?”

She stood up and draped his coat around his shoulders, “John McDonough is officially dead. You killed him today.” Smiling sadly down at him she offered him her hand, “Your John Hancock of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	4. Mac and John

**Mac and John**

**Trigger warnings:** canon violence/ language/drug, alcohol and gun use

**GAME SPOILERS!**

Please enjoy!

“Grrrroooonnnnppp pop pop pop!” MacCready’s stomach was on empty and he was positive it had begun digesting itself. His overhead was too high and he’d been skimping on food. In an effort to live off the land, he had set some snares near a mole rat colony, but had returned to find someone had helped themselves to his catch as well as his equipment.

Daisy was in the back looking for his special order and so her shop was essentially unguarded… and those Fancy Lads snack cakes looked awfully tempting…

MacCready would normally have no compunctions about swiping something he might need, or want. But, Daisy trusted him and he genuinely liked her…

“NNNNNnneeeerrrroooooo poooooop!” His stomach made his decision for him and he deftly swiped the pink package off the shelf and stuck it in his coat.

As he was removing his hand a vise-like grip closed around his wrist. Twisting his arm back behind his back someone strait-armed him into the wall. He felt the smooth coolness of a very large knife laid against his cheek even as the smell of mint played harbinger to a voice like honey poured over gravel.

“Well now, what exactly were you thinking there, boyo? I’m pretty sure those cakes weren’t yours for the taken’. And I don’t take too kindly to folks stealing from my people, you feel me? Might be you need to lose a digit or two, learn you a **hard** lesson.”

MacCready tried to push himself off the wall, but the ghoul was like iron. Frantically trying to come up with excuses he was relieved to hear Daisy’s voice, “No! Wait, Hancock!” She was waving her arms over her head as if the mayor was across town, “Don’t go slicing him up just yet; this is that sniper kid I was telling y’all about.”

Hancock gave an extra little push to emphasize his ire then released him, “They say ‘first impressions are important’. I’ve gotta say, I’m not impressed.”

Daisy wasn’t exactly sure why Hancock was angry until MacCready rather sullenly slapped the cake box on her counter. She took one look at his gaunt frame and decided to give him a break, “Oh honestly John, the cakes were part of his order! You shouldn’t jump to conclusions, Mr. Mayor.”

Hancock’s eyes narrowed, unconvinced. MacCready was rubbing his wrist and arm with a mutinous expression and he flinched when Hancock suddenly spread his arms out wide, “Welcome to Goodneighbor. Now I guess I need to consider my own first impression, heh!”

“Oh, you made one alright.” MacCready was practically chewing his tongue in half to avoid saying anything to make the volatile mayor gut him. He had never met Hancock, but he had heard things… things that made sure everyone knew that this was not a ghoul to fuck with.

“Finish up your business then come up to my office.” Tipping his hat to Daisy he sauntered away.

MacCready watched Hancock’s smooth swagger for a second before turning to face the ghoulette. Looking at her from the top of his eyes, he did his best to look winsome and forlorn, “I’m sorry, Daisy.”

“You’re sorry cause you’re caught, you mean!” She had her arms folded and was clearly pissed, “I recommended you to Hancock based on Carol and Greta’s word. ‘He’s a good kid, even if he’s rough around the edges’ they said. Ha!” Unfolding her arms, she stabbed MacCready in the chest with a finger, “That ghoul there,” She pointed the other hand after Hancock, “has a heart of gold. But don’t y’all think for two seconds he won’t end you if he thinks you’re hurting anyone of us.” She tapped him on the chest, “And don’t y’all think you could take him in a fight when I don’t think even KL-E-O can take him!”

“I’ll take him to paradise, baby!”

MacCready laughed, “I’m sure you would, KL-E-O.”

Hancock was seated on his favorite couch, arms across the back to either side, looking all the world like a king on his throne. MacCready knew that the striking redhead standing just behind him was Fahrenheit and that she was reputed to be almost as dangerous as the mayor. All in all, MacCready’s self-preservation alarms were going off like gangbusters in his head.

_Stay cool. Just, don’t say anything dumb. Be cool._

“Stray cat indeed...” Fahrenheit gave him an obviously unimpressed toe-to-crown look, as she stepped from behind the couch and moved to the door.

“And you are even more beautiful than they say.” MacCready tried his best blue-eyed smolder out on her as she passed.

“And you have frosting in your goatee.”

“You wanna to lick it off?”

She gave him the finger as she passed through the doorway.

“That’s not a ‘no’.” As MacCready turned back to Hancock he found the ghoul to be almost on top of him, his face less than an inch from his own. Back-peddling awkwardly he couldn’t help the small yelp that escaped him.

_Oh! Not cool! You idiot! NOT COOL!_

Hancock stood motionless for several seconds before taking an impressively long drag from his cigarette and then blowing a few equally impressively large smoke rings, growling softly all the while. Then to his surprise he saw MacCready’s face light-up at the display. The young man watched the smoke rings as they made their way to the celling with a large smile on his face. Something more or less clicked in Hancock’s brain and he took another, more calculating look, at the merc: he was young, he was way too skinny, even for his slight frame and he had a slight tremor in his hands. He needed help, just like Daisy said he did. Stray cat indeed…

“Follow me.” Hancock turned and walked through the back of his office to the roof access. Once outside he moved to the edge and pulling a gold colored telescope from one of his many pockets, he set it to his eye.

MacCready couldn’t contain his giggle, “Hehe! Are you kidding? You know you look like a pirate, right?”

_The set of balls on this kid!_

Spreading his arms out wide, Hancock paced elegantly toward him. Executing a full turn that would make any model on the catwalk green with envy, he stopped inches from the merc, “Sexy pirate was always going to be my fallback if ‘sexy mayor’ didn’t pan out.” MacCready gulped as Hancock once again invaded his personal space. Locking eyes, the mayor’s voice dropped to a purring growl, “I brought you up here to see how good you are,” He pointed across the rooftops of Goodneighbor to the ruins beyond, “now, take a gander through that scope of yours and tell me what you see.”

Hancock made note that as soon as MacCready raised his rifle and his focus shifted to “work”, the tremor in his hands vanished.

_Interesting._

“Super mutants. A few of em. They’re… just kinda… milling around.”

“Yeah, they do that. So here’s the game: I call the shots, you make the shots and I am impressed. You **want** me impressed, you feel me?” He had his telescope to his eye and was already picking his targets, “I used to come up here all the time, back when my eyes were better. Heh; damn brutes never could figure out where all the death was coming from.”

“And yet they still hang out on the same roof…”

“Greenskins ain’t exactly known for their quick wit.”

“Oh, I’ve known of one or two who could keep a conversation going… but yeah, like maybe two.”

Then with no preamble Hancock called his first shot, “Twelve o’clock helmet.” 

Not missing a beat, MacCready took aim and shot with impressive speed, hitting the target with apparent ease.

“Mr. Laughing and Pointing. Get his finger.” MacCready made the shot, cleanly severing just the mutant’s digit. “Now end his confusion.”

Shot after shot, MacCready’s aim was true. It didn’t matter how quickly Hancock called them out or how unique his descriptions of the super mutants were.

“Ammo out! Reloading!”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” Hancock stood, tapping his telescope against his shoulder, staring hard at the younger man. His eyes contained a look of such open covetousness that it bordered on lust. “Color me impressed. Pick up your brass and meet me back inside.”

The first thing MacCready noticed when he walked back into the office was the two items Hancock had left on the coffee table for him: a tumbler of whiskey and an addictol inhaler. Hancock had his back to him and was preparing himself a drink.

_Is this another test? The hell? Were my hands shaking that bad?! Fuck it!_

MacCready picked up the whiskey and proceeded to gulp the entire glass in one breath. Setting the tumbler back down gently, he appeared nonchalant as he then picked up the inhaler and breathed in the addictol.

Hancock’s laugh rang out through the State House, making several members of the Watch jump, “HA! You are fulla piss, ain’t cha? You know that whiskey is actually pretty good. I’ll pour you another if you’d actually like to taste it this time.” Laughing again at MacCready’s confused look, Hancock explained, “Who am I to judge the vices of another man? I offered two different solutions to your problem with not a string attached to either. That wasn’t a test, Little Brother, but I’ll give you an ‘A’ all the same. Shit! You get a goddamn gold star for that one!”

“Okay… then yes I would like another… please.”

As MacCready sipped his second glass Hancock presented him with a contract. “This is my standard mercenary contract, with a few addendums. What this simply states is that my jobs get priority and while you may accept any bodyguard, caravan guard, pest removal and escort services that you are offered, assassinations must be ran past Fahrenheit or me first. No sense picking fruit before it’s ripe, you feel me?”

“I actually don’t plan on taking… head hunting jobs anymore.” MacCready’s eyes held a hard look and his jaw was set. “Shooting armed super mutants is one thing…”

“That so? Hmmm, too bad cause I have a **very** lucrative job of just that nature. Few bad apples, past due for pickn’.”

MacCready’s resolve softened at the mention of a higher pay-out, “Who are they? What did they do?”

“Leftovers from Vic; th’ guy used to run Goodneighbor. He was a thunderous asshole and these three were some of his worst thugs. All the nasty shit you could think of, that was their MO. I have files on all three but I can’t act directly against ‘em. They know all my people and that Railroad ass-hat says he’s not for ‘cleaning up my garbage’. HA! How’s that for gratitude?”

MacCready wasn’t sure who the “ass-hat” in question was but the rest was pretty clear, “Because they won’t know me I can personally verify their location and then take them out.” At war with himself, MacCready really wanted, no, needed the money but felt he had to stay true to his convictions. Standing up, he prepared to leave before he weakened further, “I’m sorry but I’ve made some promises and I can’t accept…”

“The contract wasn’t contingent on you accepting the assassination job,” Hancock waved him back onto the couch, “if you can’t accept this one job it doesn’t blow the whole thing. Let’s go over the rest of the contract and job list, and see what you **can** do for me.”

MacCready was genuinely confused, “You would change it for me?”

“I think you’re worth it, yes. Now, let’s have Charlie send us up some grub and break this down!”

Over the next several weeks MacCready began to see a dent in his money problems. Although Goodneighbor could be rough, he found that the more jobs he did for Hancock, the less he was hassled by anyone. MacCready was often employed and he found that he truly liked the mayor and enjoyed being a “favorite”. And yet he still felt the pressure of his son’s illness; he need more money and faster. Tightening his belt would only get him so far…

“Well, look who it is! What’s in the sack?”

“It’s Christmas come early,” Setting the duffle bag on Hancock’s desk, MacCready backed away, “and since you’ve been a good little mayor, I got you your favorite.” 

There were three heads in the duffle bag.

Clasping his hands and placing them along the side of his face, Hancock adopted a falsetto, “Oh, Robert! You really shouldn’t have!”

Hancock’s broad smile and use of his first name caused a slight flutter in his stomach and he felt an uncharacteristic blush overtake him. Clearly flustered, he coughed into his hand before he suddenly remembered why he had done the job, “It was nothing really. You had mentioned a… I think you said **,** ‘a **very** lucrative’ pay-out.”

“So I did. I also think we should revise your contract: increase your general payout, increase your drink budget at the Rail… Oh yeah, speaking of which; there is a room available just off of the VIP lounge. It’s on the small side but I figure you could set-up shop there and save yourself some caps on rent.”

MacCready could hardly believe it, “Why? Why do this for me? For the assho… idiot who you caught red-handed, **stealing** , the first time you met him…”

“Ah, so the truth finally comes out!” Hancock’s eyes danced merrily.

“No, I’m serious! What… else…”

“Nothing you’re not comfortable with.” Hancock was suddenly serious, “Don’t ever feel like you ‘have to’ do anything for me, Little Brother…” He placed his hands on MacCready’s shoulders, “save for one thing: promise me you’ll **never** steal from me or my people ever again!”

“I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	5. Crazy Things We Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This short story takes place before the close of the game.

**Crazy Things We Do**

Originally written for Fallout Party day 7; this takes place before _Long Road Ahead_.

**Trigger warnings:** Canon violence/language/gun & explosives use/suggestive content

“Tell me again, why am I here, doing this?” MacCready’s face held a combination of fear and irritation that Wraith found particularly adorable.

“Cause, it’s been killing settlers,” Near the area where it was last seen, the deathclaw in question had yet to make an appearance. Stopping to get their plan together, Wraith and MacCready were on a ridge overlooking a small gully, hunkered down amongst some boulders, “and it’s my responsibility.”

“No, that’s why **you’re** here. Why am **I** here?”

She rolled her eyes, “MacGrumpy, **you’re** here because I’m paying you,” She patted his back with mock enthusiasm, causing him to lurch forward, “and it’ll give you a chance to show off; you’re always telling me how awesome you are.”

“Oh, goody.”

She really didn’t want to have to kill it. Wraith still viewed most of the Commonwealth’s monsters as “just animals, doing their thing”. Past attempts to pacify deathclaws had been met with near disaster however, so she put her sentiment aside and prepared to do what must be done. “What if it has babies?”

“Deathclaw eggs are pretty tasty…”

“Okay, plan time,” Scooching close she patted him on the chest, bringing his focus back to her, “I’m going to try and lead it into this gully to restrict its movement. I want you to put-out its eyes then I’ll work on its legs. Easy!”

Lately, MacCready had become self-aware to the fact that he really liked it when Wraith touched him. So much so that his focus would shift to thinking about her touching him and not the things that he should be concentrating on. As it was, as soon as she patted his chest, his mind went to someplace else and he only caught the last few words of what she said, “Legs, easy, got it.”

“Okay, great! I’ll be back with my ‘new friend’ in a sec. Let’s see your A game; be sure to show me the good stuff!”

“I… really think that you should… rephrase…”

MacCready was bored. Wraith had been gone for almost 30 minutes, and he had been trying to tell himself he also wasn’t worried.

_She’s just a client. A client that already paid me so… What if she doesn’t come back? I mean, I could just leave. What if she’s hurt? What if she’s dead? Oh… man…_

“MACCREADY, GET READY!” Wraith yelled as she appeared below him. Despite the fact that she was sprinting flat-out, the deathclaw was still at her heels, “OKAY, NOW!”

The deathclaw had a traffic cone stuck over one of its horns. Suppressing the urge to giggle, MacCready took aim at the monster’s left leg and fired. The deathclaw barely slowed despite the wound and Wraith had to duck as it retaliated by swiping at her.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” **EYES, MAC! EYES! EYES! EYES!”**

_Uh, oh…_

“WHAT ABOUT EYES?!”

Dodging and twisting around the enraged monster, Wraith’s voice changed octaves to a panicked screech, “ **SHOOT OUT ITS FUCKING EYES!”** She grunted painfully as a swinging forearm knocked her off her feet.

_If she dies, it’s all your fault…_

The difficulty level of shooting out a deathclaw’s eyes while it’s spinning in circles is high. Very, very high. MacCready was up to the task however and blinded the beast with two shots in rapid succession. Then despite his powerful sense of self-preservation, he quickly climbed down into the gully to help her.

Blinding the creature seemed to have no effect on its brutal efficiency. Wraith was moving awkwardly and it was clear her ribs were broken. The great monster ran straight at her with its maw gapped wide. MacCready knew, pinned and injured as she was, she wouldn’t be able to dodge. Pulling the pin on a grenade, he tackled Wraith to the ground, tossing the incendiary into its mouth as he passed. Its head exploded in a fountain of gore, splattering them both.

Breathing heavily, MacCready yelled into her face, “Are you alright?!”

Affording him a weak smile she groaned, “See? Easy.”

Lying atop her, he found himself feeling aroused despite the bloody mess. Trying to calm himself, he pushed away to flop on the ground next to her. “Did you see the traffic cone?”

“Yeah, that was funny...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you had fun.


End file.
